A Fine Time at the Beach

We were having a fine time at the beach. The sun was hot as it ever was, the waves moved up and down like they were giving the sand a prolonged deep tissue massage, and we lay on old blankets talking in incredulous tones about actors or musicians or politicians that had publicly transgressed in a tabloid media type of way. “How about that one congressman or senator or some other type of governmental representative type that keeps getting caught eating toothpaste before parliamentary sessions? How weird is that? It’s pretty weird.” It was a little weird, especially considering that the tabloids somehow kept getting photos of the congressman/senator/some other type of governmental representative alone at the desk in their office, eating toothpaste, from an angle that one could easily surmise was taken from the camera built into a laptop that would usually be sitting in that sort of position on a desk like that.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that we know more about the type of toothpaste the congressman/senator/some other type of governmental representative eats before parliamentary sessions than we do about what exactly the congressman/senator/some other type of governmental representative is doing in those parliamentary sessions?” Someone asked. It was silent until the waves started moving up and down again. “Yeah, but they eat, like, half the tube, and it’s Arm and Hammer! Who uses, never mind eats, Arm and Hammer toothpaste! That’s so weird!”